Sitting against a tree, whiskey bottle in one hand and shotgun in another, a man dressed in red scowled. "Fuckin' Rooks, ruinin' ev'rythin'." He forced the mouth of his bottle into his lips and tilted the glass upwards. He swallowed heavily, feeling the hotness of the alcohol from his neck to his sternum. He wished he had some Soothing Syrup to help his mind go numb quicker.

He looked over at the sound of footsteps. He squinted and began to push himself to his feet, but stopped when his eyes focused on the green cape. The rest of the other man's getup mattered little to the Blighter; he could have been dressed in a suit of armor, or gussied up like a whore. All that mattered was the color and symbol of the Rooks on that cloth latched to the shoulder. The Blighter snarled and stood up. Or rather, tried to stand up. Removing himself from his seat on the ground, combined with his state of intoxication, made him fall flat on his face. He groaned and tried again.

Not too far away from the hopeless gangster landed a dragon, and off of it climbed an Imperial General. She maintained enough distance to keep her and her mount out of her potential lover's area of awareness. The Partas clan had always respected hunting. Keeping quiet, not disturbing men and women who were stalking prey. And the Southerner was certainly hunting.

"Sturm. Stay," she quietly ordered her flying steed. The beast obeyed and she set off. Having been raised by a group of hunters, she too could be silent when she wished. She kept her eyes on his back, and he kept his eyes forward. Every now and again, he would pause and look around before slightly altering his course. The General wondered just what he was doing and where he was going? Did he seek more Danger Beasts to slay?

Further and further he led her into the forest. Part of her assumed he was lost, but as she carefully navigated herself to the edge of a thicket, she saw a towering silhouette courtesy of the moonlight. It was a condemned church, surrounded by headstones. The building looked so decrepit, it might as well collapse. There was no rhyme or reason to the layout of the graveyard. Some of the markers were crooked while others had large portions of stone.

Do you partake in grave robbing? she wondered. An odd hobby to have but one she was willing to look over. However, that theory died away when she realized he had not brought any digging tools with him. Whatever the purpose, he had evidently reached his destination; he walked with less focus and looked around the headstones, searching.

A voice that clearly did not belong to him spoke up. "The Priestess' trust will not be in vain."

The man Esdeath had shadowed hid behind the grave marker that must have belonged to a man of influence, as it was tall and wide enough to conceal him from sight. Staying in the dark provided by the foliage, the sadistic militant watched as three men rounded the far corner of the church. Each of them was dressed in the pelts of animals, with wolf heads covering their scalps. They walked like men who had long since rejected to part of society.

Her probable lover, Ezio Auditore, according to her memory, risked a glance from behind his hiding spot and waited for them to pass. With their backs to him, he moved silently, creeping up on them like a ghost. When they were within reached, he made to grab their necks.

Strangling? Interesting. Esdeath watched with interest as his palms met their flesh, only to instantly move away. As his arms returned to his sides, the two savages fell to the ground. They did not move as their comrade spun around.

"I seek the leader of the Followers of Romulus," Ezio said with an air of authority and determination.

As the remaining pelt-wearer drew a dagger, Esdeath's eyes remained on the world's newest corpses. How did he do that? He only touched them, and yet their lives are over. Her field of vision returned to Ez, who almost lazily deflected a swipe from his opponent's blade with his right vambrace before shoving his left hand into the savage's neck. Like his brothers before him, he fell to the grass and did not get back up.

Ez turned towards the church doors and stopped. "I know you're out there! The Wolves are gone!"

Esdeath pushed her surprise aside as she strode up to him as he made his way to the doors. "How long were you aware I was there?"

"You again? About a minute." While the nephew of Mario would normally attempt to charm any woman in front of him, doing so in enemy territory was unwise.

"And you aren't worried I too am an enemy?"

"I can tell you aren't."

She looked at the side of his face. The dark of the night combined with the hood atop his head made it so she could hardly tell what he looked like, not that it mattered to her. Appearances were of no concern to her. "And just how can you tell?"

He did not answer. He pushed the massive doors, only for them to break off their rusted hinges and fall to the floor. He stared at them as the dust they threw up settled. "Alright then." He looked inside and saw rows of torches lit in place of sconces, keeping the interior well lit. Thanks to the flames, he could see the shrine occupying the spot where the priest would lead his mass in prayer. He walked over to the statues, surrounded by small chests undoubtedly filled with drachmae and jewels. He opted to ignore them at the moment and focused on the mantel, upon which was a stone chest. He opened it... and was caught by surprise. "Questa non è una chiave."

Esdeath, having followed him in, walked up next to him and looked on as he picked up his prize. At first she thought it was an ornate dagger, steel with what seemed to be a line of gold going from the base to the tip. Then her mind shifted to surmising it was an overly large arrowhead with most of the shaft missing. Finally, she figured out what it was. The blade of a spear. Its handle was just as ornate as the steel. It had engravings and was wrapped in a fabric she could not quite identify, but knew it was meant to make holding the weapon comfortable.

Ezio looked back into the chest and saw something family. Just like with the keys, a scroll was also present. He put the spearhead on the mantle to free his hands. He unfurled the parchment. "'The weapon of the Warrior King, gifted to us, will make for an appropriate offering for Romulus. It is better here than buried in a nameless grave.'" After staring at the words for a moment, Ezio rolled up the scroll and put in within his robes before picking up the seemingly simplistic weapon. He looked at it closely, turning it around and over in his hands. Finding his father's secret room had taught him to look closely at things.

Esdeath, accustomed to far larger and deadlier weapons, was not concerned in the least with the spear. Taking the opportunity, she asked the question that had been gnawing at her for hours. "How old are you?"

Ezio glanced at her, unsure why such a subject would be on her mind, but he answered. "Venti."

"In a language I can understand," she demanded.

Ezio felt his lips twitch. He liked a woman with a fire in her. "Twenty." Before his guest could react, a howl filled the air and bounced off the walls. "I knew it. These spots are never so poorly guarded." He looked around, taking in the environment, assessing the best course of action. He had no idea how many Romulus Followers were closing in, nor how mobile the woman next to him was. If they went outside, they would be surrounded. But in here... the only doors and all the windows were in front of them.

He drew his sword from its scabbard on his hip, and his free hand grabbed his newly acquired spearhead. A sense of regret came over him for leaving his guns in the hotel room, but there was no sense in staying on what was not happening. "Stay behind me."

The General, still ecstatic at the fact that he was younger than her, could not help but laugh. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

Ezio looked over his shoulder at her and gave a smile. "Perhaps you could tell me afterwards." He turned his head back to the gaping entrance, ready for action. In through the doorway came several men dressed like the others from earlier, covered in pelts and armed with daggers. The Southerner brought up his sword as the lead Follower sprinted towards him, and deflected an attempted stab before thrusting the blade of the spear into his neck. It slid through just as he expected, but the way it had been so easy made him pause. The metal had gone clean through so quickly that before Ezio knew it, his fingers, curled in a vice grip near the bottom of the handle, were pressing into the entry wound. It was as if the cultist had been made of smoke.

The Follower of Romulus seemed to be just as shocked as Ezio. His eyes were wide as he let out a death rattle while his blood seeped onto Ezio's knuckles and wrist.

After an instant of being dumbfounded, the son of Giovanni pulled the spearhead out, find that being just as easy as forcing it forward, and the savage perished by the time he hit the ground. Returning to be aware of the flood of murders getting near him and the woman, he entered a fighting stance once more. More and more cultists slashed at him, but he was ready.

Esdeath watched, completely intrigued. She could easily end this fight in an instant, but watching her now confirmed lover mow them down was enticing. They tried to overwhelm him, by he proved to be superior when it came to skill. They swung their blades like bairns with rattles, while her Southerner danced a mazurka of slaughter. He jumped back, only to leap forward to force the tip of his sword across the vital veins of the neck, making blood gush out like a faucet. A simple but effective tactic.

One of the killers managed to land a blow into Ezio's shoulder, making him shout. His expression was more of being insulted than in pain. He spun on his heels while holding the spearhead out, making it seamlessly slice the cultist's chest open. The immense pain made the wolf drop his own weapon and cry out in agony. His pain ended quickly, as Ezio finished him with a sword to the heart.

More and more of the murderers fell, their bodies littering the already filthy floor. Ezio's robe's coloring had turned to crimson, as had the blades of his sword and spear. His mouth was just as bad; it looked as if he had been wolfing down raw meat. When the last of his prey collapsed, he stood in place, panting. As he slid his sword back into the scabbard, he found that he was not as tired as he had expected himself to be. The phenomenon vanished from his thoughts as a groan echoed throughout the building. With his fingers still tightly grasping the broken spear handle, his eyes darted around before finding a Follower of Romulus, trying to crawl out of the church. Ezio's thoughts shifted to when he finished off the Pazzi family as he closed in on the suffering vagrant.

"Requiescat in pace." He knelt down and finished the Follower off. Before he could return to a standing posture, he felt arms wrap around him. For the briefest of moments, he feared another savage was attempting to get the drop on him, but the hold on him was soft, almost wanting. He glanced over and saw the blue-haired woman was holding him dearly with a smile on her face. "You do know I'm covered in blood, yes?"

"I don't care." Her tone would not be out of place in a dream. "I finally found you."

Ezio felt paranoia flood into him. "You've... been looking for me?"

Esdeath, obviously not concerned with the plasma coating him, nuzzled onto his neck. "Finally. Love. You're perfect."

"I... am?"

She let go of him and stood up. She pulled a small piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. "You meet all of my specifications."

Does she want to hire me? I suppose... father did work with Lorenzo. Ezio took the parchment and adjusted his stance, trying to get the light of the torches to shine on it. As he wiped the blood from his eyes, thunder filled the air.

At least it sounded like thunder. But Ezio was not concerned with the specifics. As soon as the noise rang out, he was thrown off his feet. His chest and stomach were filled with more pain than he had thought imaginable. Blood seeped out of the newly formed holes on his flesh and garbs.

Standing in the doorway of the church, a plastered Blighter laughed with a smoking shotgun in his hands. "Gotcha, ya Rook!"

His triumph would be the last thing he ever did in his life. As he cackled, a spear made of ice launched and went clean through his head between his eyes. He stood there for a second before falling like a puppet with cut strings.

"Cheap tactic," Esdeath snarled as she got on her knees next to the supine Ezio. "Too cowardly to take him head on, like a fighter." She tore the fabric open, and could see the damage. "This is not good. Normally, I'd leave people like this to their fate, but you were cheated, Ezio."

As he lied there, Ezio's vision began to blur. All became a fog. He felt himself slipping away. He blinked a few times as the agony covered him like a shroud. Then, something gradually came into focus. At first, it was only a shapeless silhouette. But the lines began to sharpen and colors came to it, forming a woman. Using his remaining strength, he grabbed her hand. "Cristina... I'm sorry."

Esdeath kept her fingers around her love's hand as his head went limp. She did not know who this Cristina was, and at the moment she did not care. She picked up Ezio and ran for the exit. "Sturm! Sturm!"

Within the operating theatre of Southwark's primary hospital, a nurse wipes the surgeon's brow of sweat.

"Thank you." The blood-covered doctor turned away from his patient to pick up a fresh set of forceps, only to hear the door bang open. "This is a sterile environment, please-" he panics when he sees who it is. "G-G-General Esdeath!"

The military leader looked to the operating table. "Make that vacant."

"B-but-"

"Do as I command!"

"I took an oath too-"

"If you do not follow my orders right this second, I will personally go to your home and introduce myself to your family."

The medic did not need to be told twice. He turned to his assistants. "Put her in another room and monitor her!"

Esdeath held Ezio tightly as she watched the staff clean the table. When all was reset, she put him down on the flat surface. "Multiple gunshot wounds."

Hours passed. Blood coated the floor. Tools were strewn about. The surgeon found himself sweating more and more with the feared General so close to him.

Esdeath tinkered with the vambrace from Ezio's left arm. She looked at the inscriptions. It was made of metal, certainly, yet it was so light. She felt inside it, and her fingers brushed against something. She pressed down in it lightly, and a thin blade sprang out from the vambrace. "So that's how you did it. Not a touch of death, but something just as efficient." She removed her fingers from the dent within the bracer, and the steel slid back into its unseen holster. Feeling around, she felt a second small protrusion and pressed on it as well. Another sharp instrument presented itself. Unlike the first, this one was hollow and thin as a needle. "Injection, maybe?"

The surgeon spoke up. "I-I have done all I can. I've extracted all the fragments, but the damage... I just don't have the supplies. I sent for them weeks ago and-"

"Can he move?" Esdeath's tone was calm as could be.

"Wh-what?"

"If you patched him up, could he be safely transported?"

"Well, technically yes. But without proper treatment, he-"

"Could he survive a few hours, half a day at the most?"

"Well, I suppose-"

"Close him up." She looked down at her unconscious love and gently put her hand on his cheek. "Worry not. I'll take you to get proper treatment."